The Buccaneer - A Tale

Sir Robert had sent several messages to his daughter, imploring her to

see him, but in vain--she resolutely refused, wisely dreading the result

of such an interview. "This day and to-morrow is all the time," she

said, "I can call my own, until--for me--time has entered upon eternity.

All I implore then is, that I may be alone, the mistress of myself

during such brief space."

When the sun was set, Barbara entered her room with a slight evening

meal. Her mistress was sitting, or rather lying on a low couch, opposite

a table, upon which stood a small dial, mounted in chased silver,

representing a garland of flowers.

"Lay it down, good girl; I cannot taste it at present. I have been

watching the minute-hand pace round that dial.--Is it, indeed, near

seven? It was an ill thought of the foreign craftsman to set Time amid

roses; he should have placed it among thorns. Is the evening fine?"

"Fine, but yet sober, my lady; the sun has quite set, and the birds are

silent and at roost, except the old blackbird, who whistles late, and

the wakeful robin, who sometimes bandies music with the

nightingale.--Would you like to hear them, madam?"

"Not just now, Barbara: but leave out my hood. Did my father again ask

for me?"

"Not since, mistress. Mr. Fleetword is with him." Barbara left the room.

"I cannot tell why, my lady," she said earnestly to Lady Frances, whom

she met in the vestibule--"I cannot divine the reason, but this bridal

has to me the semblance of a funeral. God shield us all from evil! there

is a cold deathlike chill throughout the house. I heard--(though, my

lady, I do not believe in such superstitions,) but I heard the

death-watch tick--tick--ticking, as plain as I hear the old clock now

chime seven! And I saw--I was wide awake--yet I saw a thin misty

countenance, formed as of the white spray of the salt-sea wave, so

sparkling, so shadowy, yet so clear, come between me and the moonbeams,

and raise its hand thus.--Oh, mercy--mercy--mercy!" she shrieked, so as

to startle the Lady Frances, and then as hastily exclaimed, "La! madam,

to think of the like! if it isn't that little muddy, nasty Crisp, who

has found me out! I will tell you the rest by and by, madam, only I want

to turn this little beast into the shrubbery, that he may find his

master."

At another time Lady Frances would have rallied her for accompanying,

instead of dismissing Crisp to the garden; but a weight of sorrow seemed

also to oppress her. Her usually high spirits were gone, and she made no

observation, but retreated to the library.